Just a Girl
by Tiamat Drache
Summary: Trying to fill one of the Beater's positions on Slytherin's team, Marcus Flint makes the acquaintance of Chantrelle Drache, and despite her being a novice at the game, he is sure she will find a place with both him and the other members of the team.


"Beastly, horrific, terrifying, " I found myself going over the prospects for this year's Slytherin Quidditch team. Let's see, there was me, of course, followed by-.

Flipping through pages of hopeful candidate resumes and portfolios: now this was a bit of a challenging task. I made a mental note to myself to apologize to Snape: his new system had resulted in portfolios which were actually alphabetized for once. As Slytherin was my House, I felt a flash of embarrassment. Maybe that was why Wood had been a stickler for time: you never hear about Gryffindor paperwork originating from a box after the summer holidays.

Unfortunately for me, not all of Quidditch was playing the game: even for me, a Chaser who'd fun afoul of more than my fair share of bludgers during my time in the air. No wonder helmets were still listed as legal where the Keepers were concerned. It's not like they had freedom of motion going for them. Blinking back an automatic wince as I remembered some of my more embarrassing run-ins with a bludger, I thumbed through the paperwork. Hopefully this wouldn't require too much thought on my behalf.

Since last year's roster had unfortunately graduated or, in one person's case, been went home without an explanation, I was in for personally going to an audition, that is to say, checking out their skills. Let's see, how many of them could I fit into a free period...

Enough, as it turned out. Since I'd freed up a block of space which allowed me the Quidditch main at the end of the school day, I'd been sending owls to the prospective wizards and witches telling them when to show up and where. I couldn't place everyone, that was for sure. But I had about 11 or less spaces to fill, depending on how many I was going to keep or drop from last year. Unfortunately I was going to have a hard time because the majority of the Quidditch teams had been made up of graduating individuals. I sat there, a pencil in one had, and the folder full of dossiers in the other, determined to come to some sort of decision.

"I'm sorry, but Flint, Marcus Flint?"

I blinked, aware that I'd been staring at action shots of the prospective candidates for too long. One of them was apparently talking to me.

"Eh, er, excuse me, Captain, but I was told I should take this straight to you."

Captain, ah yes, the title. The entire reason I was going to be the first and final opinion when it came to team selection. Swyfte had graduated, leaving me with a seriously difficult broom to mount, so to speak. Then it clicked. I wasn't hearing things at all. I looked up, dropping my pencil, as the person who'd spoken earlier leaned over to drop a thinner pile at my right hand side. While she went for the pencil, I found myself turning red. She was wearing a TA (teaching assistant) badge, and a skirt under her Slytherin colors. I tried so hard not to notice as it made its way up over her muscled legs, thinking it was a bit of a pity she was so short.

Then again I wasn't against the figure she presented, especially if it allowed her to show so much skin and still be within Hogwarts' dress code. I found myself hoping I could place her somewhere I could keep an eye on her.

"Here's your pencil, Captain."

My cheeks were still red. I could tell that from the heat I could imagine radiating from my face.

"Thanks, uh." I struggled, trying to wrack my brain for her name. It should be something exotic. I thought, as exotic as her cinnamon skin and copper eyes.

"Chantrelle. I'm in the applicant pool, and I would like to try out for Beater."

"Beater, eh?" I realized I was staring at her again, but this time I noticed her muscular arms and lean torso. She would likely present a small and frustrating target for the bludgers. I was very interested in seeing hertry out.

"I will see you on the pitch later, Chantrelle."

There was so much more I wanted to say, but most of it involved nonverbal exchanges, such as a very popular fantasy of my hand up her skirt. I was suddenly very glad that I was seated. That way I wouldn't embarrass myself further. I thought she would turn around and give me the pleasure of watching her walk away, but she bit her lip, apparently wanting something more.

"Yes?" I asked.

"The auditions for the positions are open to spectators, yes?"

"Yes, they are as a matter of fact."

"Good. I have some friends in Gryffindor who will most likely show up to see if I fall flat on my face or not."

Now that was interesting. Not only that she had friends in Gryffindor (I had to fight hard to hide my surprise at that.), but how she'd put it: it didn't sound like they were very encouraging or anything with them showing up to witness her projected failure. It took all types, I supposed. Maybe I was reading too much into this, trying to defend the damsel in her imagined distress. Well, due to the position she was applying for, I could give her some good news where that was concerned.

"I'm short a beater this season, so that position's yours provided you don't do anything like impale yourself on the goal posts or anything. The only other student who applied had the position last year, so I was wondering what I'd do to place a mate for him. Still, I want you two to be on your brooms this evening so I can see how you'll fit together."

"Ah, well, thanks, Captain. Wouldn't miss it for the world."


End file.
